With the Setting Sun
by stillgoldie1899
Summary: How long is too long to wait for someone? For Sarah, she would wait for Jack forever, until he finally came home. (Companion to In the Desert Sun)


The ring of the distribution center bell would always tear at her heart, a longing tug, bittersweet and painful. It was an innocent sound, the sound of girlhood, the sound of hope, the sound of dreams. He hadn't been the only one with a dream. It was just that her dreams were simpler, her dreams were tangible, her dreams were the plain dreams of an immigrant girl, who wanted nothing more than a home of her own, a man she loved, and children underfoot.

And the sound of that bell, even after years of waiting, could make her remember the sight of him, walking away from her, as though it had just happened.

It had been raining for days, and it was starting to get cold. Winter was on the way, and after the dark and miserable weather, everyone was on edge. But he was, especially, the kind of person who needed sunshine and light, even in the dead of winter. And to be without it made him cranky, and easily upset. They'd had fights before, of course they had, they were human. If they hadn't had fights, how would she have known anything they had was real, after all? The fact they could fight, and then made up again, proved to her that she loved him, and that he loved her.

But this fight was different. He was so angry at everything. She knew it wasn't really about her, even as he yelled, red faced, and furious. He threw a small vase across the room, and thankfully they were alone in the apartment, because she wouldn't have been able to explain to her family what was happening. And when he stormed away, she knew he'd be back the next morning, begging her forgiveness, offering to try to replace the vase.

Except that he wasn't. He never came back. He was gone, into the night, into the darkness, as though Jack Kelly had never even existed. The others didn't know where he'd gone, no one did. It was possible, of course, that they did, and didn't have the heart to tell her, but she needed to believe that he'd just left without telling anyone, if he wasn't going to tell her.

And she began waiting. Years worth of waiting. Her life put on hold, while the world around her changed. Her brothers grew up, left home, while she stayed there, taking care of her parents, helping organize David's wedding, and then Les's. She helped her family live their lives, while she waited.

There was no shortage of gentlemen who came around in the beginning, interested in a girl so clearly capable of keeping a house. One or two of them were even more handsome than he had been, and several were well off, comfortable homes already set up, just waiting for a girl like her to warm the hearth. But she turned all of them down. With a smile, yes, but firmly. Her heart was spoken for, and she knew, somehow, that she'd see him again.

It was just that by the time he got to her, she wasn't sure she'd be what he remembered. Time was starting to take it's toll on her. She got older, and a little bitter as the years rolled by, and everything changed, while she stayed the same. And she went from being a sweet girl waiting for her beau to come home, to an old maid, and then, eventually a spinster.

She never moved from the home she'd lived in when she knew him. She knew he'd need to find her, somehow, and if she moved he never would. Long after her parents were gone, and the buildings around it were torn down, she stayed there. She kept the place the way it was, she wanted him to feel comfortable when he got there.

Slowly, she developed a reputation for being just a little mad. She understood, of course, why they'd think that. Anyone who'd wait their whole lives for a sweetheart to come back was clearly a little mad. But she knew. She just knew, some day, he'd come home.

And one evening, one early summer evening, as she sat on the roof, at the end of the night, watching the sun set over the buildings on the horizon, he did.

He was exactly as she remembered, tall and lanky, with that red bandana around his neck, and his hat at a cocky angle. He grinned at her, and reached for her hand, and she was afraid to give it to him, afraid of the wrinkles, her crooked fingers. But when his hand wrapped around hers, she no longer cared that she was old, and he was still young. He pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her the way he had, so tight she thought her ribs would crack, holding her like he couldn't bear to let her go. He smelled the same, even, cheap soap, and smoke, and newspaper ink, and she buried her face against his chest, brushing her nose against the worn, soft fabric of his shirt, struggling to keep from crying. He whispered her name, kissing the top of her head, telling her how sorry he was that he was late, that he would have been there sooner, but she hadn't been ready. She didn't question him, she just clung to his chest, feeling warm, and safe, and whole, for the first time since he'd stormed away from her.

He was home. She was finally whole.

They found her, the next morning, sitting in her chair on the roof, already cold. Her brothers paid for her funeral, and many of their old friends who were still in the city showed up. Most commented on her faithfulness to a man who had cruelly abandoned her, but neither David, nor Les, ever said a word on the subject. They knew their sister had never had any regrets about waiting for the man she loved.


End file.
